The Good, The Bad, The Weird
by Jyurai Saburou
Summary: Based on the blockbuster with the same name.


An eagle soared through the sky, its majestic form casting a shadow upon the gravel and sand on the ground below it. It neared the lone train tracks in the centre of the valley, spotting a stray piece of meat, probably roadkill (trackkill?), which two ravens were hogging over. The eagle swooped in, causing the ravens to flutter away in fright. Their meal was swiftly snatched away by the eagle, just before the black monster sped over the scene.

The train trundled on the tracks, making its way to the Russian border. Survivors of the Japanese invasion and oppurtunistic people were seated in the carriages and were hoping to find a new life across the border in Russia. It so happened that a certain confectionary seller was also aboard the train. But he seeked more than just a new life.

"Rice cakes! Rice cakes!" he called in his best Chinese.

It was clear that he was not a local. He was dressed pretty shabbily, almost like a biker, if a biker carried a wooden container with a white cloth covering its contents. His face was emotionless, but a visible small smile tugged at the sides. A young man stood up to take a rice cake, but the confectioner slapped his hand, grabbed his head and forced him back down to his seat. He continued to open the carriage door and slammed it shut.

In an instant, he removed the cloth, grabbed the two P90s from the container, which he then disposed of onto the ground. He looked through the door of the first class carriage. Grinning, he kicked open the door, and emptied both guns into the carriage. He shut the door again and slammed in fresh magazines and reopened the door, this time, normally. His targets were all found, and the survivors were as he had hoped. The five guards lay on the ground, their blood drenching the carpet on the floor. A bespectacled old man stood at the end of the carriage, while two women, dressed in _cheongsam_s were cowering by their seats. A soldier, most likely the commander, had also risen, but he was unarmed.

Karl pointed the Luger at the old man and the other at the soldier. "Alright, get those bags down,"

"_Ni zai jiang sen me?_"the soldier asked.

"You don't speak English?"

"_Wo zai wen ni zai jiang sen me?_"

"Oh, that's just great," Karl sighed. "Гет тхе a bug," he said in Russian.

The soldier gave him a quzzical look, then shifted his attention to the old geezer.

"For Christ's sake!" Karl stamped his feet in annoyance, then calmed himself down. In halting chinese, he said, "_Qing ni na na yi ge bei bao_,"

"_Ni zi dao ni zai gen shui ziang hua ma?" _the soldier pointed at the old man.

"Sorry, dude. I don't understand Chinese that much," Karl pulled the trigger.

Blood spurted out from the soldier's foot. He collapsed to the ground with a cry. Karl pointed at one of the women, then motioned at the cases on the racks. One of them looked at the old man, who stood there motionlessly for the whole time. He nodded slightly. The one in the red _cheongsam_ stood up and reached for a bag. At the same time, the train hit a bump. The bag flew off the rack and landed at Karl's feet, spilling its contents. Diamonds tumbled onto the carpet, and pearl necklaces slid to his shoes. But the most rewarding sight were the notes which also found its way to his side. With a cheerful 'Yay!', he knelt down and began to pick up the contents, stuffing the objects into his many pockets. He looked up suddenly, startling the woman who removed the bag. He pointed at a larger bag. She obeyed, removing the bag.

"_Da kai_," he ordered.

She opened the bag, and stared at the contents, then she looked back at the old man once more. He nodded slowly, an action which went ignored by Karl, who was still stuffing the objects into his pockets. The woman removed a Derringer from the bag, and pointed it at Karl.

*

Shin'ichi observed the area with the precision of a hawk. The train was about to pass by this valley. He cast a look at the ticket Mr. Yamamoto had passed him, then flung it into the air. It was caught on a stray draft and was blown away. A bandit did not need to board the train. He could stop it. He made his way down the valley. Black smoke rose from the burning debris that lay on the tracks. Very soon, the train might come to a screeching stop. Anytime around.....now. The high-pitched scream of the brakes was such a beautiful sound. The black train burst through the thick smoke and came to a halt just in front of Shin'ichi, who waved away the remaining smoke, which drifted along with the train. He folded his arms, and gave a high whistle. A shout rose from behind the hill. More bandits came riding up to the train, each wielding a weapon of his own.

"Jun," Shin'ichi called to one of the bandits.

"Yes, sir?" the swordsman stalled his horse next to SHin'ichi.

"Find the map,"

"Affirmative," Jun spurred his horse, and charged into the train.

Shin'ichi strolled to the train. He pulled out a S&W and shot a man who had escaped from the train on the head. The train driver hopped off the controls and looked at Shin'ichi. Shin'ichi stopped in his steps. The driver backed off, then started to run. A spear impaled him, cutting him short. His body lay suspended by the shaft. Shin'ichi resumed his slow steps as another horseman rode past. The horseman removed the spear. The driver's body slumped onto the ground, as Shin'ichi strode past. He caught onto the iron bar by the carriage's side and hoisted himself up.


End file.
